


Lay Your Weapons Down

by potidaea



Category: Stumptown (Comics), Stumptown (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But Mostly The Usual TV Canon Divergence, Dex Needs Therapy, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some Comic Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potidaea/pseuds/potidaea
Summary: Dex Parios had two tried and true nightmare prevention methods: coffee and alcohol. Fiona helped her sometimes.
Relationships: Dex Parios/Fiona Finklebocker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Lay Your Weapons Down

**Author's Note:**

> Utilizes a quote from Jarhead (dir. Sam Mendes, 2005), book by Anthony Swofford
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ [kilyun.tumblr.com](http://kilyun.tumblr.com)
> 
> Find me on twitter @ [ki1yun](https://twitter.com/ki1yun)

**2009**

Dex couldn't believe she was back in Portland. She was months away from a promotion, if she just re-upped. About to be _Major_ Dexedrine Parios. But no. Her family couldn't step the fuck up and take care of Ansel. So, her bright military career was just unceremoniously flushed down the shitter.

Probably for the best.

She spent most of her nights stationed on the couch with a beer (or six, but who's counting?) in one hand and her father's old revolver in the other, staring at the front door. Just…waiting. Not for sleep. No, she knew that wouldn't happen. Her mind wouldn't stop. It was a constant shitty documentary…_The War on Terror: Back With A Vengeance_.

Occasionally, while she sat waiting, she would fish out her U.S. Army 519th Military Intelligence Battalion coin. Toss it in the air. Heads, she'd put a bullet in her brain. Tails, she'd drink another beer.

She usually just drank another beer anyway. Couldn't have Ansel finding her.

She continued on in the same pattern for months: Sit. Stare. Drink. Flip. Stare. Drink.

Then, she saw a flyer for a punk show one morning dropping Ansel off at work. It was then she decided that _maybe_ she could drink to music. Well, if the band was good, at least. She pawned Ansel off on a friend from high school that she probably should've looked at more closely and headed off to the venue.

She leaned against the back wall of the surprisingly packed venue, sipping a drink as she reflexively scanned the crowd. Her eyes played tricks on her. Anyone with a thick coat? Concealed weapon. The sharp kick of the drums? Gunfire in the distance. She couldn't shake it. Those who dared step too close caused her muscles to tense as she readied for a fight that never came.

She tried to steady herself; to feel the music in her feet, to let out her built up anger through the singer's faux-rage. Ultimately, she couldn't relax enough to really try, though.

By the end of the show, Dex was shakily sipping the last drops of the Long Island Iced Tea she ordered when she arrived. Based on the wave of anxiety that hit her when she first walked in the door, she knew she'd never make it back to the bar for her usual few beers. So, hard liquor it was.

The last set finished and she was waiting for the crowd to thin out when an attractive woman with bright pink hair walked in her direction, two beers in hand. "I haven't seen you around here before," she said, holding one of the beers out toward the soldier.

Dex just grabbed the beer with a curt nod, "Thanks." She attempted a smile but was sure it looked like a grimace.

"You from out of town?"

"Nah. Been away."

"So, that's why you've only just made it to one of my shows," she said cockily.

Dex vaguely recognized her as the lead singer of the headlining band. "It's no Throwing Muses, but you're not bad."

The other woman smirked and introduced herself, "Fiona."

She introduced herself in kind and the conversation lulled a bit. Her skin started to itch again, eyes darting to the nearest exit. If Fiona noticed she didn't say, but she instead asked, "I need a cigarette. Join me?"

Dex nodded, following the punk rocker outside the bar, watching as she lit a cigarette. She took a long drag, then through a cloud of smoke, "It can get stuffy in there."

"Yeah," Dex said quietly. Too vulnerable. Fiona knew and she didn't know how. She stood quietly next to the other woman for a while, their backs against the rough brick wall.

"Thanks for coming out here with me. Can be dangerous for a girl at night," she smirked as she turned her body toward Dex.

"You don't strike me as a damsel in distress."

"I could be one tonight. If that's what you're into."

So, that's how it started. Just sex. Lots of sex - enough to distract from the nightmares, at least. Until two months had passed and Fiona was suddenly at her place during the day or meeting her for coffee or taking her to underground punk shows and they would fall into bed together...and sometimes, just sleep.

Dex was amazed the first time it happened. She was relaxed enough with Fiona next to her that she could fall asleep without her regular sleep aid of six beers. She didn't need to guard the door all night (she wanted to, but Fiona would probably never come back). Her eyes settled on the bedroom door in compromise (just to be safe) until they both fell into a relaxed sleep.

That is, until Dex shot up - screaming. Her mind raced. She was in Fallujah; bullets flew past her head. Her unit commander called for a medic. Surely, Daniels - a fucking eighteen year old...the Private she had just the day before snuck beer to - wasn't missing half his leg. He couldn't be.

In the distance she could hear someone calling her name. The voice didn't fit. She couldn't place it.

Suddenly someone touched her shoulder. Her instincts kicked in, pinning her attacker face down on the bed.

"Dex, it's me!" Fiona tried.

Ansel must have heard the commotion, because behind her Fiona heard his groggy, tentative voice, "Dex? Nightmare?"

Instantly, the brunette released her, falling onto her side of the bed. "Yeah. It's okay, buddy. Go back to sleep."

_Fuck_. She had been hoping to avoid this. _Nothing lasts forever, I guess._

"Are you okay?" She asked as soon as her brother left, embarrassed. She spent years of her life fighting. It was her job. She feared what she was capable of if Ansel interrupted one of her nightmares. She never imagined she would do this to Fiona.

Fiona sat up. "You did worse the night we met," she deflected. She was scared, but she needed Dex to talk to her. "You have nightmares?"

"Fuck," Dex sighed. "Uh, yeah. Since I got back."

Fiona grappled for words. "I mean, I knew you'd been..." She hesitated to even mention the military. "But you've slept at my place...?"

"Not usually. We're up late. I make coffee once you fall asleep," she confessed.

"Oh, Dex," she sighed softly, leaning forward to place a kiss on the brunette's forehead. She couldn't begin to imagine the ghosts that haunted her lover, so awful she'd rather become one herself. "We don't need to talk about this right now." She glanced at the clock. 3:47am. "It's four. Do you want to try to get some sleep? Or we can have some coffee? Maybe watch tv?"

"All of the above," she requested.

Fiona watched with renewed perspective as Dex walked trepidatiously down the hall; glancing at every doorway and window, examining the stairs carefully for a moment before stepping down into the living room (which she also scrutinized before moving forward carefully).

Fiona reached to turn the light on at the bottom of the stairs, watching some tension fall from the brunette's shoulders once she could take in her surroundings with greater ease. A gentle kiss to her cheek, "I'm gonna make the coffee. Why don't you find something to watch?"

Dex pulled out her copy of Jarhead. For now, she needed to live in the pain. Just for now. If Fiona thought it was a bad idea, she didn't say as she handed her some toast and a cup of coffee (it was mostly milk - she hoped Dex didn't notice).

Dex smiled, sipping on the coffee until it was empty. She eventually settled with her head in Fiona's lap, taking small bites of the buttered toast while the film played.

Fiona played with the brunette's hair, smiling when she laughed at the lighter parts of the movie. She was, thankfully, asleep again before 5:30am. The sun wasn't up yet. If they were lucky, she'd get a few more hours of sleep.

Fiona listened to the final narration, staring sadly at the woman in her lap.

_A story: A man fires a rifle for many years and he goes to war. And afterwards he comes home and he sees that whatever else he may do with his life - build a house, love a woman, change his son's diaper - he will always remain a Jarhead. And all the Jarheads killing and dying...they will always be me. We are still in the desert._

They would talk about this later. For now, sleep.

**2019**

Fiona knew as soon as she saw her that Dex Parios was nowhere close to recovered. She knew, but she hoped she was wrong.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard Dex rummaging in her hotel suite kitchen just after 3am. The singer dragged herself out of bed, sighing. She meant to pull the Keurig out - it was hidden beneath the sink under the guise of keeping a sleek and modern appearance - but had talked herself out of it. _She won't need it. It's been years_, she told herself.

She found the PI wearing just a tank top and underwear muttering curse words under her breath. Her shoulders were tense as she hunched over the kitchen sink, white knuckling the counter. She knew this version of Dex well. Some nights after her dreams, she was a wreck. A sobbing mess. But some nights - some days - she was pure rage. It bubbled from deep within and she would just seethe in silence until it passed.

The water ran steaming hot out of the faucet. Fiona hoped she had just found a Keurig pod and ran out of options. She knew she was wrong. She watched in horror as Dex stared blankly at the water, reaching out to touch it. "Coffee?" She asked, knowing better than to call attention to the brunette's recklessness.

"Huh. Oh, yeah." She folded her hands into herself, crossing her arms. Vulnerable, ashamed. She knew she'd been caught.

Fiona stepped forward to shut off the water. She placed a gentle hand on the PI's hip as she bent down to gather the Keurig from the cabinet, squeezing softly. She made quick work of filling the machine with water. Gathering a cup from the counter, she pulled Dex's preferred dark roast from the mixture of pods and left it to brew.

Dex stared at the floor, avoiding her ex-girlfriend's eyes.

Fiona just stepped forward, pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's okay," she whispered into her neck.

"Not what you imagined, eh?" She said dryly, though the wet tears hitting the musician's shoulder betrayed her attempt at deflection.

The bleach-blonde ignored the question, instead rubbing comforting circles on the small of the PI's back. They stayed that way for a few long moments, until Fiona made a quiet suggestion. "Why don't you grab your coffee and we can sleep in my bed? I'll leave the bathroom light on."

Dex nodded, nuzzling further into the musician's neck. She took a deep breath to brace herself before standing upright to grab the coffee that sat on the counter. Fiona looped an easy, comforting arm around her waist to steady her as they walked toward the bed.

Fiona made herself comfortable, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, as Dex settled on the edge of the bed sipping her coffee. When she finished she crawled into the bed, pushing Fiona's phone away to rest her head on the musician's chest.

“Have they gotten worse? Since you started the PI thing?” She asked gently as she stroked the other woman’s hair.

She felt Dex nod against her chest.

"You'll be okay." Her voice was heavy as tears formed in her eyes. She hated seeing Dex like this. She thought for a minute before speaking again. "And my offer for you _and Ansel_ to come with me on tour still stands, okay?" As much as she loved Dex - would always love Dex - the offer was half-hearted. They both knew she'd never accept.

She wasn't surprised when they started having sex again, but she knew Dex wasn't interested in sticking around. Neither was she. But still, the next few nights when she woke up to Dex asleep, holding her hand like no time had passed, her heart sung. She wondered how many nights like this it would take to get her to cancel her tour. To stay in Portland. It was either too many or not enough.

**Author's Note:**

> If interested, [this is the last scene in Jarhead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4CK4ihSEm0)
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ [kilyun.tumblr.com](http://kilyun.tumblr.com)
> 
> Find me on twitter @ [ki1yun](https://twitter.com/ki1yun)


End file.
